


Now Playing

by 40 (ForNought)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Changing POV, F/F, F/M, Idol AU, M/M, Minor Violence, Past Underage, but they are all aged to different degrees, constant sns usage, i am only tagging the pov characters, scandals, some strong language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-09-20 16:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9500675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForNought/pseuds/40
Summary: Haiba Alisa is navigating life as a veteran star. Semi Eita is trying to stop his life from being ruined by cheeky upstarts. Oikawa Tooru is riding high at the top of his career and trying to avoid the annoyance that is Ushijima. Shirofuku Yukie just wants to find a new gym partner.





	1. September

###  Alisa

After the climatic ending of the song, Alisa kept her eyes closed and listened to the PA system ring as closely to silent as it could get over the electrical buzz. For a few seconds the concert hall was quiet and then raucous applause greeted Alisa when she opened her eyes.

She smiled and bowed as she was expected to. It was difficult to move about in the glittering gown she was fitted into before the show started. It was supposed to seem like a quiet, intimate evening with the cool blue-tones of the spotlight caught the glittering beads with every breath or sway of her body. It sounded nice in theory but the dress was heavy and the light was hot and she was sweating buckets when all she was doing was standing still and singing. It all looked fine when she monitored the rehearsals but it was always a bit different when the room was filled with audience members.

“Good evening, everybody,” She said happily into the microphone as she waved to wherever she thought she might have caught the eye of fans in the crowd. “I am so happy that you were all able to come out to see me. I have had lots of fun hearing your cheers and I feel very loved. I have one last song for you all.”

Alisa paused and let the crowd cheer and shout that they loved her. It was the same old routine and she was used to it by now. The crowd too knew well what they were supposed to do and they quieted down after a moment to let Alisa continue. “I am sure most of you can already guess what the song will be. I want some help with this one if you know the words, is that alright?”

The crowd screamed in agreement and Alisa couldn’t contain her smile. No matter how many years she did this, no matter how often she performed the same songs, hearing the response from the crowd made her overflow with joy.

“It worries me that some of you might not even have been born when this song was released, so if you don’t know the words you should just scream at the top of your lungs,” Alisa laughed. There were some laughs mixed in with the sounds of cheers and screams. Alisa waited for her own laugh to fade along with the audience before taking a deep breath. “I love you more than common sense, I love you beyond my heart…”

She held her microphone out towards the crowd and nodded at the yell of, “And Still…!” to finish the line.

“That’s right, that’s right!”

The music kicked in and the crowd roared along with the music.

And Alisa would stand on stage for a bit longer.

 

###  Shirofuku

The crowd was beginning to disperse, but Yukie and her friends stayed seated. Konoha always joked about how easily Yukie and Komi could get lost in the crush of bodies uncooperatively moving together, but it was something that she did secretly worry about herself. If they did get separated, even for just a short while, Yukie suspected Bokuto would consider this birthday ruined forever.

Never mind that Bokuto’s birthday had already happened and they had ended up going to Bokuto’s family’s restaurant for drinks with Kuroo, Kai, and Yaku from the group Kayak. But the 25th was equidistant from both Bokuto and Konoha’s birthdays so it made the most sense to give them both the same present seeing as they were both massive fans of Haiba Alisa.

“What are you grinning about over there, Sarukui,” Konoha said with narrowed eyes.

“I’m not grinning,” Sarukui said reproachfully. Konoha didn’t seem to care about that and scoffed.

“It must be because some of the girls from Black Swan are here tonight as well,” Komi suggested as he leaned across Sarukui and Yukie to pass his phone to Konoha. “And by that, I specifically mean Watabe-san and Sasaki-san.”

“Which one is the visual?” Konoha asked as he swiped up and down Komi’s Instagram feed to see the dozens of pictures the girls had spammed in the space of ninety minutes.

“Aihara’s the visual,” Yukie supplied, because she knew that she would be asked sooner or later. Konoha blinked at her uncomprehending so Yukie shoved her own phone in his face to show the singular selfie Aihara had posted for the evening. It was a good picture to showcase the haughty beauty she was famed for with two of her group-mates making silly faces in the background. “This girl is Aihara, but she isn’t Sarukui’s style.”

“Can you believe it? My heart isn’t racing. That girl just ain’t my style!” Komi supplied with some swagtastic movements. Recently, there was a resurgence in the sharing of a video clip of Sarukui rapping very badly during one of their early performances. Most of Sarukui’s SNS posts had a handful of people commenting or replying with the lines that had been parodied to death at this point, yet Komi’s efforts of practicing until his English pronunciation was just as careless and unintelligible as Sarukui’s had been at the time couldn‘t be discounted.

“Why did you have to do it in English?” Yukie asked at the tail end of a snicker.

“What do you want me to do? Should I go back in time and not do that? In fact, I just won’t join Night Call at all,” Sarukui grumbled.

“What are you getting all serious about?” Konoha asked as he gave Sarukui a significant look that was ignored.

“It’s only a joke, Bokuto,” Komi said with a soft smile. Bokuto, who had been peering over Konoha’s shoulder and keeping quiet until this point flinched. “You know how Sarukui isn’t very funny.”

“Oh,” Bokuto said. “Haha.”

“What’s with you?” Konoha asked. He passed Komi’s phone back, apparently bored of looking at pictures of girls that Sarukui probably fancied.

“Nothing,” Bokuto replied quickly. Yukie narrowed her eyes, Bokuto sounded far too defensive. It took her only five seconds of searching to find something that might have been the cause. She had thought he was being too quiet. Just when she was considering mentioning it – or maybe not because who knows whether this would become some gentle ribbing or a savage attack – Komi guffawed and smacked Sarukui’s arm.

“Bokuto, please tell me that you’re being like this because of this!” Komi grinned as he waved his phone in the air.

“What’s that?” Konoha asked, squinting hard at the screen that his eyes couldn’t keep up with. He leaned over to look at Yukie’s phone screen after a few seconds too long of being baited by Komi. “Bokuto, I don’t think it’s that much of a big deal. He just wrote, ‘Have fun!’ and some weird face.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bokuto said quietly.

“Did hearing that really make you sad?” Sarukui asked, nonplussed.

Bokuto shook his head and Konoha rolled his eyes. “You should just reply to his comments one of these days.”

“What should he say? ‘I love you, please sing this love song I wrote for you because I am in love with you,’ sounds like a good start, right?”

“I did not write a song for Oikawa-kun or anybody else, stop saying that,” Bokuto grumbled.

“I thought we weren’t allowed to say his name,” Komi protested.

“You wrote a love song for me, remember?” Yukie asked.

“What?” Konoha exclaimed loudly.

“Oh, that’s right,” Sarukui muttered. “’Yukie, you’re such a beauty-eh, and I love you~!’”

The harmonisation from Komi was a nice touch as Bokuto reddened and protested loudly to yet more renditions of the song.

“Hold on,” Konoha said. He held his hand up between Sarukui and Bokuto as though it would do much to impede the excessive pinching that was going on between the two – and it actually worked! Sarukui and Bokuto loosened the grips of their fingers and looked at Konoha inquisitively. As impressive as it was, Yukie wasn’t a fan of having a lap-full of squabbling men and she turned a comparatively more vicious look on Konoha for his trouble – which he promptly ignored. “How come I don’t know about this love song?”

“I already said I have never –!”

“It was when Bokuto was trying to convince me to join his first project. He was certain I would make an amazing Enka vocalist,” Yukie mused. The (thankfully short-lived) Enka projectTM had occurred when they were all still in school and though it was a ridiculous situation all round, it was still not one of Bokuto’s worse ideas. A worse idea than The (thankfully short-lived) Enka ProjectTM had been the electronica outfit that he was putting together which had been the reason Konoha wasn’t aware of the ‘love song’.

Bokuto and Konoha had fallen out too many times over music, usually minor disagreements that they managed to get over with begrudging mutual respect. Prior to that had been The Techno IncidentTM that all members of Night Call were forbidden from mentioning, whether they were aware of all of the details or not. Yukie was only privy to the parts that Konoha and Bokuto had drunkenly mumbled to her on separate occasions over the years, mostly ramblings about how the other was ‘a stupid idiot-face’. Childish insults aside, Yukie had mostly gleaned that there were some styles of music that Bokuto would never be able to keep in his repertoire and Konoha had hated techno music all along, so The Techno IncidentTM itself had come about because Konoha’s fondness of Bokuto was eventually outstripped by his disdain for techno.

Konoha’s brows pulled together. He must have realised that The (thankfully short-lived) Enka ProjectTM had taken place during the time that he and Bokuto were officially not friends – friendship bracelets discarded and everything!

“Don’t write any more love songs,” Konoha said quietly. Bokuto lowered his head as though he was being scolded and Konoha pulled him into a hug which could easily have been a headlock. “I can’t leave you alone can I? Just tell him that you did have lots of fun. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

“Okay,” Bokuto agreed, his voice muffled from the gap between Konoha and Yukie’s laps.

 

###  Semi

It still hurt Eita to remember how much his mum had cried when he had told her, jittery with nerves but filled with determination, that he wouldn't be finishing school. He had been fourteen at the time and close enough to finishing middle school that his mum had tried to use it against him as she shouted and sobbed at her son who had disappointed her. It had taken some time for her to get over it, but Eita supposed the new house had helped.

From his acting and advertising contracts, Eita had made enough money to buy a few properties. He saved the best for his mum and rented out the rest of them. Between his investments and his continued work, Eita would never have to resort to a boring life of sitting in an office and chasing a salary. He was sensible and had been saving up the money had been earning since he was thirteen. He had first started acting when he was eight, but thirteen was when his mum had realised this was a viable option and wanted Eita to learn how to survive, how to save money and how to properly take care of his own finances. At that time his own finances had been spent replenishing his snack supply but as work picked up his income grew and his mum would give him a substantial amount of his earnings.

But it was like the past ten years had never happened because his mum was crying and he had somehow become a bad son once more. They were sitting on the furniture bought with Eita's money in the house that was also bought with Eita's money, yet he was a bad son.

Eita wondered whether his mum could have been an actress. She was pretty enough and when her face was creased with emotion and her eyes damp with sorrow it made Eita's stomach feel squirmy and uncomfortable. It must have been the same for other people because there was no way that seeing this wouldn't make anybody else want to die. 

"I'm sorry," Eita said, at a loss for whatever else he could say. His mum shook her head, shoulders heaving with her sobs as she clutched at tissues. 

Eita had no idea that his mum was such a big fan of SPIKE. She had seemed indifferent about him joining the group and gave the distinct impression that she only attended their concerts about of maternal obligation. Yet, here she was, reacting as though the world were tumbling in on itself. 

"It's just a job," Eita tried quietly.

Amidst her unmuted wailing, his mum fixed him with a look of utter incredulity, "How can you say that?"

"Because is it just a job."

"If you don't renew your contract what would you do. You are always harping on about not having to reduce yourself to the work of boring, ugly people, but what else will you do?" Eita's mum asked, quite articulately for someone so distraught. Eita was sure she had missed her calling, the cameras were sorry not to have her.

"I will just stick with acting."

"What if it doesn't work out? At least if you renew your contract, Shiratorizawa will continue to find you work and SPIKE can continue. Haven't you thought about the rest of them?"

"Of course I have. I just wanted to tell you first," Eita said, hoping that he didn't sound too much like he was sulking. "But what about when SPIKE first debuted and all of my money from my individual jobs was divided between the rest of them? I let them live off me without complaining. SPIKE wouldn't have even had such a successful debut if it weren't for the media-play around me." 

Initially Eita hadn't minded sharing his income with his group-mates. They were in it together and it was fun when they all got to look at their payslips and see the numbers change from red to black once they had made back their training debt. But five years into their promotions, management decided to let them keep their earnings for themselves. Instead of having whatever was left that Shiratorizawa didn't need divvied between six, his earnings went straight into Eita's bank account without the further deductions. But the other members were finally able to pull their own weight and none of their earnings had to be divided to make Eita feel better about being dead weight.

Perhaps the small grievances had mutated while he ignored them. One thought about how it wasn't fair that he had to work so much harder the rest of them was left to fester at the back of his mind for seven years. He didn't hate SPIKE - not the music, not the members, not the fans with no boundaries, nor the endless performances - but he needed a break from them.

He needed a break from Tendou's pronged words, and Ushijima's obliviousness, and Yamagata's encouragement, and Oohira's gentle understanding, and Soekawa's useless invisibility.

"Eita, why do you have to think about breaking the group up like this. Weren't you happy?" His mum asked, a trembling hand coming to rest on his knee. Two decades ago, before Eita had made it big, she would have pulled him into her arms and told him everything was going to be alright. But he was a grown up and his mum was physically distant and telling Eita that he was in the wrong.

"I was happy. I didn't hate it," Eita said. He cleared his throat and wondered why it still felt so close to breaking. "But I need to move on. I don't want to do it anymore."

"You can't just decide something so easily as though it wouldn't affect the other members. They have lives and goals too. Surely you can still promote while acting," His mum suggested, the voice of reason. Which was annoying because she usually was right but Eita wanted her to agree with him. He only wanted her approval and the guarantee that she would be behind him all the way. But, much like before he had made it big she was saying no, and Eita would have to go against her wishes.


	2. October

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Semi gets disappointed. Shirofuku gets disappointed. Semi gets mad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a schedule for this because I am not writing it in order just to make things harder for everyone.   
> This chapter features a double-dose of Semi for reasons unknown.

## 

### Semi

“What?” Eita asked just in case he had misheard. The casting director just blinked owlishly over the frames of his spectacles and shuffled the papers on the desk between them. He must have been purposely trying to provoke Eita, to make him flip out so there was no hope of the part going to Eita.

It wasn’t fair. Eita had been in this since he was eight years old. Out of all of the auditionees, Eita had the most experience, the most star power, the best face, the best range of emotions. Eita was better than everybody else, he knew that without having seen the majority of them. Yet he hadn’t been given the leading role. He was some secondary character who just had to chirp their support to the lead and disappeared at some convenient point near the end of the plot.

And the main role had gone to some kid who must have been buying his way into the industry somehow.

“You gave my part to that frigid bitch?” Eita spat across the desk. The casting director removed his spectacles and polished the lenses on his off-white shirt and replaced them with a sigh.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Eita-kun.”

“Don’t you fucking dare call me something so familiar, you incompetent shit-stain,” Eita yelled, banging his fist on the table hard enough for the leaves on the wilting desk plant to shiver.

“The part was never yours in the first place, Eita-kun,” the casting director said tiredly as he rubbed at his temples. He peered across the desk at Eita and the corners of his lips rose slowly. “The diva act was still cute a year or so ago, Eita-kun, but we’ve both become a little old.”

“I’m still twenty-four. How is that old?”

“It’s too old for you to act like such a brat.”

It wasn’t fair. It really wasn’t fair. Eita didn’t know what he was supposed to do.

Eita had always been cute. Wherever he went he had people fawning over him – his looks, his talent, his temperament – and even curling with excitement at the flashes of rage they saw. And now he was being told he was too old. He had done his research and Akaashi Keiji was only three years younger than him, hardly a lifetime of youth, yet the snake was using underhanded means in order to deprive Eita of his livelihood. 

Eita dropped his shoulders and fought the jut of his lower lip as he looked up at the casting director. “What do I have to do to get the part?”

“Build a time-machine and do a better job than Akaashi-kun,” the casting director suggested.

“Listen here, you ignorant toad, I know for a fact that I did a better job than that poe-faced urchin. I was in the fucking room when he read the words form the fucking script without any inflection like the coked-up ingrown toenail that he is.”

The casting director sighed, yet again, sympathy riding on the stale scent of raw eggs. He patted Eita’s hand as though he wasn’t the one who was divorced, middle-aged and balding. “Akaashi-kun had a quality that the producers and writers and directors all really liked. His nature seems to be closer to that of the character.”

“It isn’t called having a similar nature, it is called _acting_. And I am an _actor!_ A good one. Wouldn’t you feel better about paying me to act than paying him to just turn up and recite lines,” Eita asked. He turned his hand over so that his palm slid against the casting director’s dry palm. He tilted his head and tried to smile. “We go way back, don’t we? Remember, when I was thirteen and you cast me for that superhero movie? And I was really homesick and scared but I still put in the performance that had people asking for you to personally cast them a kid as good as Semi Eita?”

The casting director closed his fingers around Eita’s hand, but instead of the fond nostalgia that Eita had hoped to induce, the expression that stared at him was titanic pity.

“Eita-kun, I know that you’re a good actor, but you know you’re not the only reason I am where I am now,” The casting director said sadly. “This time you just weren’t good enough.”

“Please, I need this job,” Eita said, his pride crumbling and sticking sharply in his throat. “Help me.”

“You have a wonderful career in that idol group of yours, don’t you?”

It was the same thing again. Just like his mother, his casting director was making this about SPIKE, making it about the leeches who owed so much of their livelihood to him. He was never going to escape them. He was going to be stuck as Semi Eita from SPIKE until the fans moved on to younger, more energetic groups, or until they moved on to their families and children and didn’t spend any of their time or money on idols. He was going to be stuck at this moment in his life where he would be forgotten as the future forged its way around him and his sources of work would dwindle as they redirected to fresher talent forged in the embers of Eita’s demise.

“SPIKE is going to die one day. I’m desperate for this role. I need it.”

“SPIKE isn’t going to die tomorrow though, is it?” The casting director said. He pulled his hand away and pushed a box of tissues across the desk towards him. When Eita had dabbed at his eyes and blown his nose twice, the man went on, “Tantrums and flattery have got you nowhere. Don’t you think it is time to accept things for how they are? Shouldn’t you think yourself lucky you even got a part in the drama at all?”

That was odd. Eita was still young and beautiful and talented. He was still on the upswing of his life and considering the momentum he had built up this far nothing was lucky so much as a given. He narrowed his eyes at the casting director. “Why on earth would I think myself lucky? What are you trying to say?”

“Nobody is trying to doubt your skills as an actor. Your aptitude for it is passable in most cases, but a lot of production crews don’t want to work with someone like you.”

“Would a luminescent kidney stone such as yourself want to tell me what ‘someone like me’ means?”

“You’re not a charming man. You are vile and disrespectful and a lot of people can’t stand your baseless pride. I can’t think of one person who has worked with you and still has a nice thing to say about you, Eita-kun. You’re a prick and even I can’t stand you.”

“Fine,” Eita spat. He stood up abruptly and hoped he looked like he had never cried in the first place. He wasn’t stupid so, when he kicked the casting directo’s desk for good measure, the sole of his foot was aimed at the rickety, flat-pack table top. Panic flashed across the casting director’s face as he looked to steady the structure as he watched Eita stomp away. He stopped at the doorway, just to be dramatic and said, “The only thing stopping me from launching myself across this room and killing an endoscopic fart like you is the fact that I might never work again if I did. And tell that crusty gusset Akaashi that I hope he breaks both of his fucking whore legs.”

 

###  Shirofuku

Yukie was disappointed, but she wasn’t surprised. She and Shimizu weren’t close – they had fallen into an easy comradeship due to being the same age and having bumped into one another just enough times at the salon before schedules – but they got on well enough. They went to the gym together when they had free time. Despite not being bosom buddies, that was their usual activity together.

Shimuzu had an amazing body which was never usually visible due to the nature of the characters she was often cast as – the shy and retiring types who wore so many layers that it felt stifling to watch Shimuzu bumbling about onscreen – but it was motivation enough for Yukie to drag herself from bed, shower, put on some sport-lite fashion, and leave her flat. Unfortunately, Yukie was being deprived of that amazing body because of some illness which had suddenly come on.

Yukie had never pegged Shimizu as a bad friend, but she should have thought more carefully about her excuse of being stuck in bed with the flu if she was going to post pictures from her trek through a mountain on Instagram. It wasn’t a massive problem because Yukie had been dreading Shimizu scrutinising her deltoids and telling her to try harder, but the point was, Yukie had managed to wear appropriate clothes and was already at the café inside the gym, tapping her foot along with the inoffensive pop tunes piping through the speakers on the walls.

Already she had been scrolling through the contacts list in her phone for a good five minutes and only one thing had become apparent. She knew far too many men. She didn’t mind men as such, it was just that occasionally she did want some female company. Someone who was pretty and funny and could talk about the sort of things that made Konoha cringe.  

Yet she had been abandoned. All she could think to do was message Konoha.

 

SY: bored

KA: what made you think I would care????

SY: you’re the only person I can count on

SY: the period cramps are killing me

SY: save me konoha-kun, you’re my only hope

KA: never contact me again

SY: don’t you love me anymore

SY: ???????

KA: I never loved you

SY: that is so rude. Especially at this

SY: very

SY: S E N S I T I V E

SY: time of the month for me

KA: why are you doing this to me????

KA: You could have messaged anybody in the world except for me?????

KA: Why do you hate me so much????

SY: I love you the most, my dearest Akinori.

KA: I doubt it

SY: And also Shimizu ditched me at the gym

SY: I’m sobbing

KA: There we go.

KA: I don’t want to hear it. I am allergic to exercise.

SY: I didn’t even ask you to come here?

KA: new phone who dis

SY: never talk to me again

KA: ???????

SY: don’t even think about crawling back to me

SY: I have already lined up your replacement

KA: I mean, finally.

 

Yukie stopped midway through a message to Konoha. Someone had stood next to her table in the café but they weren’t saying anything, just lingering. If Yukie just ignored the person they would go away eventually. It was unlikely that this person was a fan because Yukie was just one of the invisible members of Night Call. Sometimes she still got irritated at how focused the attention was on Bokuto, but she gets all the money and prestige without having to forgo normality. People tended to leave her alone after deciding they didn’t recognise her.

But even as Yukie returned to letting Konoha know just how much of a loser he was, the person remained.

She looked up with the best smile she could muster and found herself looking into the very red face of a café employee.

“Are you going to buy anything? The seats are for customers only,” She prompted quietly. One of her hands was clutching at the end of a pigtail. Yukie doubted very much that customer service was the right fit for this young lady.

“I can show you my gym membership if you’d like,” Yukie said.

“No. Café customers only,” The girl said in a wavering voice. It must have taken a lot for her to confront Yukie if she was glowing and sweating so much.

That sounded like a new rule – if it was even a rule at all – but it could be easily remedied.

“I’ll have an americano, please,” Yukie said sweetly. At this the girl flushed a dangerous shade and Yukie wondered if the girl was breathing at all in the moments before she spluttered.

“You have to come to the counter to order,” She said as she wrung her hands.

Yukie was already tired. She couldn’t remember the gym ever being this complicated before. She held her sigh and simply smiled as she followed the girl up to the counter to order a coffee, all just so that she could sit down without being pestered. She didn’t like to point the finger but there was no way that this wasn’t Shimizu’s fault.  If Shimizu could have refrained from pretending to be ill and ditching Yukie, there would not be so much suffering in the world – specifically in the café at the gym.

There was nobody else around so Yukie could only awkwardly wait at the counter after she had paid. The girl had seemed timid all along but the line of her shoulders as she turned away to use the coffee machine was sloping and small and there was a lot of excessive clinking considering it was just one cup of coffee.

The girl politely passed the cup to Yukie after what seemed like an age.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you remind me of somebody,” Yukie said as she held the lightly steaming cup between her hands.  

“Really?” The girl didn’t sound at all interested but her own politeness was her downfall. Yukie was going to continue to talk anyway. She had nothing better to do.

“She is a junior at my company. She has this really nervous disposition, from what I have seen. I don’t know her too well but whenever we meet it seems that she is worrying about something. Do you have anything that you are worried about?”

The girl shook her head. “There is nothing in particular. I hope you have a nice day.”

Though the girl was still timid, the abruptness of the girl’s reply came across as a rebuke. Maybe it wasn’t Yachi who this girl reminded her of. Yukie squinted for a moment at the trembling smile which was beginning to slip despite the cares of customer service.

“Have we met before?”

The girl hesitated before she shook her head. The hesitation must have cursed her somehow because one song playing through the speakers on the walls drew to a close and another began. There was something militaristic about the beat and there were some impressive vocal belts playing over the intro. The song was over a year old at this point but Yukie remembered it from a few events and festivals that Night Call had played over the past few months. It was that memory and the stricken look on the girl’s face which gave Yukie her answer.

“Black Swan, right?”

The girl lowered her gaze for a moment before she nodded.

 

###  Semi

Eita had to sit beside Akaashi at the press conference. He had to smile and nod and pretend everything was fine while he was stuck at the table, staring into the flashes of cameras and sharing oxygen with the emotionless abalone himself.

Akaashi lifted his glass of water and squinted at the glass as though looking for faults or debris before lifting it to his lips and sipping slowly. He set the glass back down and his tongue crept out of his mouth to lick a stray droplet of water at the corner of his mouth and his eyelids dropped with the gesture. The press conference had yet to start and here the kid was flirting with some entity that sat before them. Eita scanned the audience of reporters and journalists but saw nobody whose gaze was fixed on Akaashi more than the normal amount.

“Why don’t you stop that,” Eita muttered as he flipped through the agenda on the table before him.

“Hmm?”

When Eita glanced up, Akaashi’s vague gaze was aimed at him and his eyebrows had risen on his forehead. He wasn’t cute at all. Eita already knew how much he hated the bastard, but the need to punch him in front of all of these witnesses making the muscles of his arms tremble was something Eita hadn’t considered.

“This isn’t a marriage meeting, or some sort of real-life hook-up app. We’re here to talk about work,” Eita said, looking away and speaking without inflection. Surely this was the way Akaashi would be able to understand the best if his uninspiring acting was anything to go by. For the sake of the cameras Eita pointed to the agenda in front of Akaashi and smiled when he raised his gaze so their eyes met. “Maybe you should show some self-restraint for once. You being a slut all the time can only bring bad publicity.”

“And here I thought you were unfamiliar with my work,” Akaashi noted, picking up the pen that had been arbitrarily provided and twirling it between his fingers. “Maybe we should become friends.”

“Maybe you should fuck off.”

“Maybe I should.” His eyes were too passive as he looked at Eita. Until he reached for Eita’s face. It was too late for Eita to suppress his flinch and Akaashi smirked, for just a second, before his face was neutral once more and he continued the wisping of his fingers at Eita’s hair. He mimed getting rid of fluff blandly before looking back at Eita, just as passively as before. “Semi-san, you are more experienced in this sort of thing than I am. When is it that they usually turn on the microphones at press conferences?”

Eita dumbly looked away at the microphones on the long table positioned before each of the main actors, the directors and the writers. Of course the microphones were already on, the levels already set, ready for the push of a button for the sound to be broadcast to the audience through the monitors once the press conference officially started. He was lucky this time that it was only the sound engineers of the event who had heard.

This was dangerous.

“I only wish to live long enough to see you die.”

“I’ll probably get to see you die first,” Akaashi remarked boredly before turning to greet Suzumeda Kaori who sat down on his other side. She was a recently-debuted junior at his company and they chatted comfortably while Eita could only glower as he waited for the rest of the staff and cast members to have their individual photographs taken before they took their seats.

Shimizu Kiyoko sat on Eita’s other side. Despite being a more senior actress than the idol singer Suzumeda, she too had been passed over for a more prominent role and was left with a useless secondary friend role with Eita.

Eita liked Shimizu. She was polite and kind and she didn’t talk too much, but he wished she would say something now.

“How is the situation like this?” Eita asked aloud. The question was mostly to himself just in case Shimizu wouldn’t answer. The lines here were vague as Shimizu was a bit older than Eita though he had debuted before her. He didn’t know whether she would accept a scolding if he thought she was being rude and he didn’t particularly want to discover the consequences of demanding respect of someone who could rightfully do the same to him.

Shimizu sighed and flipped open her agenda. “I’m not complaining. I’m just glad Akaashi-kun’s sponsor didn’t want to seem too obvious and let people like us at least claim the rest of the roles through our merit.”

“What?”

Eita wasn’t sure whether he had misheard something crucial. His pulse was thudding in his ears but Shimizu looked as though she hadn’t said anything scandalous or life-changing at all. He stared at the microphones and wondered whether she had slipped into being just as unaware of them as he had been.

“Shimizu-san?” Eita prompted because she had chosen now to close her lips again. “Akaashi has a sponsor?”

Eita had no time to be shocked and dramatic. The MC of the press conference was on standby and the announcement came over the PA system that the press conference would begin shortly. Everybody around him kept their mouths shut in regards to Eita’s question. It was a testament to his skills as an actor that even as he ruminated in the revelation he was still able to do a proper greeting and answer the questions appropriately.

Eita had to smile and laugh and give thoughtful replies about what he thought of the character he would play. What he thought about the script that wasn’t worth the paper it was printed on.

But eventually the reporters had asked all they could and there were more photographs to be taken before the time ran out. He was glad that due to the time constraints a question about how he felt playing a secondary character was cut short. He only had time to say it was good to see newer actors get good opportunities for their career before the MC thanked him and asked for the next question. It was not as though he had been saved, but he wouldn’t have been able to give a longer answer without stumbling into more dangerous territory.

When it was time to leave, Akaashi was doing just that, stumbling into dangerous territory. It didn’t matter about the staff that were around, ushering the actors to their dressing rooms. Eita reached out for Akaashi in front of him and closed his fingers around Akaashi’s collar to pull him back and push him into the wall. Akaashi was a bit taller than him so once the surprise had subsided was able to coldly glare down at him. Things like this weren’t fair. Eita tightened his grip.

“Do you really have a sponsor?” Eita asked in a low voice. At this point it probably didn’t matter if people heard, it was more of a bother to Eita that if he spoke any louder he wouldn’t be able to maintain any semblance of control that he had.

“That’s a dangerous question,” Akaashi said.

“Your answer could be the most dangerous thig of all. Tell me if my skills are so worthless that you opening your legs for some lonely old man gets you everything that I have worked my whole life for.”

Akaashi was quiet for a moment. “I suppose I must agree that your skills are worthless.”

“You shitty little piss-clown.”

Akaashi smiled, tranquil and calm as though he hadn’t been slammed against the wall. As though he had the upper hand. He lifted his hands from his sides and slid them around Eita’s torso and clutched at the cotton of his shirt almost as tightly as Eita was holding on to him. “Is that all you have to say, Semi-san?”

“Are you useless enough that you couldn’t hope to reach this level by your own merit?”

“Are you useless enough that you can’t surpass me by your merit?” Akaashi countered.

Eita eased the pressure on his fingers and stepped back, pushing against the hands that held him firm until he was an arm’s length from Akaashi. “For the duration of filming, I want you to stay away from me.”

“Only if you stay away from me, Semi-san,” Akaashi said with a flutter of eyelashes that had to be intentional.


	3. November

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Futakuchi has a birthday. Michimiya is a failure. Shirofuku doesn't have a life. Semi hates everyone around him.

##  NOVEMBER

###  Ennoshita

Chikara had been a little wary of why Futakuchi was calling him out at this time of the evening. He had tried to push the feeling out of his mind as he brushed his teeth and put on something a bit more fashionable at Narita’s behest – living with a model had its benefits despite the fact that most of the free clothes Narita decided he didn’t want were usually a bit too long in the leg for Chikara – and he tried to prepare himself for a casual meeting between friends. If they were friends.

Chikara was right to be suspicious because when he left the flat, Futakuchi was waiting outside the building with his red nose poking over the top of the scarf he had wrapped around his neck in the effortlessly stylish way Chikara could never quite manage. Even with the long, navy peacoat, Futakuchi’s legs looked endlessly long and his hair was casually dishevelled in the way the fashion magazines always managed to perfect. It was Futakuchi’s birthday but there was no need for him to look so good just because of that.

“What am I supposed to do if you come to meet me looking like that?” Chikara asked on the back of a sigh. Futakuchi was editorial ready while Chikara was short and trying too hard.  

“You don’t need to do anything,” Futakuchi said. He pulled his hands from his pockets and mimed taking a shot. “You look fantastic, Babe.”

The wink didn’t really add anything to Futakuchi’s ridiculousness, at least it didn’t add more than Futakuchi reaching his hand out as though he expected Chikara to hold it. Chikara kept his arms folded across his chest and hoped he looked entirely unimpressed. “Are you saying you need to get drunk for me to look good?”

“That depends. Would saying that increase or decrease my chances?”

“Chances of what? Getting hit?”

“Close,” Futakuchi shrugged. “I was thinking more about my chances of–”

“Please stop talking.”

“–Getting to hit that.”

“So you’ve decided that you don’t want to live past twenty-one?” Chikara asked. He knew what to expect from Futakuchi and he had already agreed to meet him. There was no point in backing down but he also wasn’t going to let Futakuchi just get away with everything. He walked past Futakuchi to the car that Futakuchi shouldn’t have been able to afford and waited for the door to be unlocked.

“You wouldn’t kill me,” Futakuchi grinned. “You wouldn’t make it one day without me in this world, Ennoshita.”

Well, that was completely wrong. Chikara yanked the passenger door open and climbed into the seat quickly. He had become better at dealing with Futakuchi, but only slightly. Sometimes he just wasn’t quick enough with making retorts and he had to let Futakuchi grin at him with soft victory in his eyes.

“Are we actually going anywhere or are you going to try to convince me to have car sex or something?” Ennoshita asked. If that was the case he needn’t have bothered worrying about what to wear and he could just go straight back home and procrastinate editing a video he had been working on for far too long.

“You mentioned car sex because it is one of the offers on the table, right? Because it is my birthday and you love me?”

“If I loved you it wouldn’t have even crossed my mind. If it does somehow happen I will have plenty of opportunities to elbow you in the face and knee you in the crotch.”

Futakuchi laughed loudly, somehow managing to reverse out of a parking space without killing the both of them even when he kept closing his eyes.

The drive wasn’t a long one but even so, Futakuchi refused to let Chikara plug his phone into the auxiliary cord. Futakuchi had some quick reflexes so even the slightest twitch of Chikara’s fingers was met with a swift slap to the wrist. Chikara quite liked Haiba Alisa’s newest song. It was more stripped back than some of her previous singles and it featured just piano and acoustic guitar with layers and layers of her vocals. It was a bit of a cyclical song with more and more vocal layers being added over the same verse and chorus. It was a bit of a creepy song and Chikara would have at least liked to listen to a few other songs on the drive.  

“Please,” Chikara said with the last vestiges of his energy during the fifth replay of the song.

“Please, what, Babe?”

Chikara didn’t even have it in himself to bristle at the nickname and comment on that. “I understand that you like the song but at this point I am begging you to just kill me.”

“But if I kill you now the sex isn’t going to be that great, you know. Unless you are into that sort of thing.”

“If I was dead it wouldn’t matter what I was into, would it?”

Futakuchi looked as though he was genuinely contemplating this, so Chikara said, “I am so glad that I didn’t get you anything.”

Futakuchi’s eyes boggled as he glanced quickly at Chikara and then back at the road. “What are you talking about? You just being here is the best present I could have wished for.”

Chikara leaned into the car door and felt his seatbelt slacken too much to feel safe. He pulled at it to feel it tighten around his body. When he felt like he probably wouldn’t be flung from the car should Futakuchi prove to be a worse driver than he said he was, Chikara muttered, “Why are you like this?”

 

Futakuchi was apparently a simple man. Chikara wasn’t hoping to spend lots of money, because he honestly wasn’t making very much money at all, but he had been expecting to go somewhere a bit more upmarket than a small noodle bar with an elderly man dozing between draughts of alcohol and sporadic mouthfuls of ramen.

If Futakuchi wanted ramen there were dozens of closer places that they could have gone. As far as Chikara could tell, this particular noodle bar wasn’t near to Futakuchi’s flat. It looked like a big shed held together with plastic sheeting and there were only around fifteen seats – not that many of them had been filled. Most people probably wanted to eat somewhere with proper walls to protect against the briskness of the November evening night. 

A tiny old woman leaned close as they gave their orders. Futakuchi had to repeat his order for beef donburi three times because she kept gesturing to her ears as though she couldn’t hear. When she finally shuffled away, probably to prepare the wrong thing for her customers, Chikara was struck by a memory.

“We’ve come here before, haven’t we?”

Futakuchi glanced up from his phone. Chikara could just about make out a few words that had been typed in and he couldn’t be surprised that Futakuchi was already tweeting about this ‘evil hag’ who was pretending not to understand him. Futakuchi nodded once and locked his phone. He set it aside on the table and folded his hands in front of him. And then he waited.

“Do I have to remember myself when we came here?”

“It’s no fun if I tell you,” Futakuchi shrugged. 

He hadn’t known Futakuchi for very long. It hadn’t quite been two years since they had met but even with such a short frame of reference, Chikara couldn’t recall much beyond the hours in practice rooms and feeling somehow inadequate in the recording studio. He remembered that it was when they were filming the music video for the SHOOT project debut that Futakuchi started calling him by irritatingly sappy names – though that had nothing to do with this place.

“When did we come here?” Ennoshita asked.

“I just said–”

“I mean the date. Or the season. I can’t guess without a clue.”

“A good boyfriend would have realised I have been giving clues the whole time,” Futakuchi said. It was frustrating that the jokes always went this far, far enough for Futakuchi to say the thing that Chikara wanted to avoid hearing.

“Stop it,” Chikara said. He should have ignored the message asking to meet. He should have stayed at home and procrastinated a little bit longer.

Futakuchi wiped at his nose. “Ennoshita, are you telling me you have never thought about it?”

Chikara _had_ thought about it. At length. What it would be like to think it was real, to look forward to messages and calls and dates that were not dates. Futakuchi was good looking and he seemed to enjoy talking to Chikara, but that only made it harder to stop thinking about it as a possibility. It was flattering even if it was only a joke, but the happiness from being flattered made it something that Chikara couldn’t help himself but indulge in fantastical daydreams about.

“Why would I have?” Chikara asked dishonestly. He wiped his palms on his thighs and hoped he looked at least a little bit like the thought it was all in good fun.

“It’s my birthday, Ennoshita. Think about it now.”

“Alright. I don’t think it is a very good idea to go on with the joke. Our fans would get the wrong idea.”

Futakuchi raised his eyebrows. “’Our fans’, Ennoshita? Does that mean you have heard something too?”

“Of course I have. If they were getting SHOOT back together for a while they would have to tell all of our companies to arrange it.”

Chikara was right, of course. All of the members of the project group SHOOT were under different agencies so plenty of notice would have to be given to make allowances in the schedules of five different people doing different things. Futakuchi was a member of an unsuccessful idol group who were always vaguely making promises about returning with a gift for their fans; Chikara was not doing much of anything besides deciding whether he wanted to act behind the scenes; Yahaba and Shirabu both claimed to be debuting any day now but they still had schedules and training of their own regardless; but it was Akaashi who would have needed the most notice to be able to rearrange his schedules and appointments considering he was a rising star in the acting world who was never wanting for work.

“Have you spoken to any of the others about it?” Futakuchi asked with a soft smile.

“No,” Chikara said quietly. “Nothing is for certain. Two years seems like too short of a time for a reunion.”

“It does,” Futakuchi agreed. He leaned across the table with a bigger grin. “But it is happening. I suggest you get excited, Babe.”

“I said the fans might get the wrong idea,” Chikara sighed.

“I would quite like it if that was the idea they got,” Futakuchi grinned. He quickly resumed his tweet about the old lady before tapping at his phone screen a few times and holding his arm up in a way that Chikara had learnt to dread.

“What are you doing?”

“We should commemorate this moment with a selfie.”

He started to pose and Chikara saw how sallow his skin looked on Futakuchi’s screen. “What is it that we are commemorating?”  

“We are commemorating the time we rekindled our love on the evening of my birthday,” Futakuchi replied flippantly. Chikara’s resigned expression was forever memorialised on Instagram behind Futakuchi’s poorly-executed wink.

 

###  Michimiya

Yui was a failure.

She had spent far too long pretending that was not the case, but the numbers spoke for themselves. Numbers were the most important thing. The number of sales their last three singles accumulated, the amount of fans following the group and its members on SNS, the number of fans who attended fan-meetings and handshake events, the number of views on their music videos, the amount it had cost to train the seven members for their debut, the cost of costumes and songs and choreographers and recordings and living expenses and management and maintaining connections with other companies...

Yui felt like an idiot even though she should have been expecting to hear bad news all along. For three years, Black Swan had failed to make an impression and gain a steady fan-base and gain traction on any music chart. Black Swan were nobodies who were destined for disbandment.

She should have done what Sawamura had done – Sawamura withdrew himself from the idol group he was slated to be a part of in favour of becoming a serious actor. At least that way he wasn’t responsible for the livelihoods of six other people.

Yui’s leadership had contributed to running Black Swan into the ground. The people that did post online comments about their performances tended to mention how lacklustre the stages were, how laboured the girls’ breathing was, and how visibly tired they were despite light schedules. But due to the lack of success, several of the girls were juggling their schedules with part-time jobs and vocational courses. Of course they would be tired if the little sleep they could get between practice sessions was further reduced because of having to find alternate ways to support themselves.

Yui sniffed. She had to stop crying. She slapped her cheeks hard enough that they stung and she pressed at her eyes until white sparks burst beneath her eyelids. 

She needed to be composed if she were to pass on the news to be discussed with the other members.

It was easier said than done, Yui realised. Moe’s eyes were already beginning to water when Yui said that she had an announcement to make. It was alright for her, she was still young, she had turned nineteen that year, and she could re-debut again if need be. Manami too was young enough to get a fresh start, but the rest of them would soon have to look for other work in order to carry on.

“We don’t have long left,” Yui said, because it was better to get to the point and then try to make it sound positive. Mao breathed hard through her nose and continued to stretch on the floor as though none of this had anything to do with her. “Our agency is better off focusing on KORVID because they debuted two years later than us and they have already proven themselves to be a good investment.”

“We’re working hard too,” Nozomi said quietly. She was so meek even when she should have been fired-up with rage. 

“But we don’t have any fans,” Mao said bluntly while still directing her limbs with purpose. She was well able to pretend that this was no concern of hers.

“We do have fans,” Yui said. It was difficult to be encouraging when negativity blighted the group at every turn. Yui would never outright blame Mao for undermining any attempts at leadership, but she hadn’t once made things easier.

Aihara Mao was a recognisable name though if pressed a good many people who knew the name didn’t quite know why they knew her. She was not quite a model, not quite a bad actress, not quite a fixture on variety programming. The people that realised that Mao was part of a group – whenever the management could get her credited as _Black Swan’s Aihara Mao_ – probably couldn’t hum a Black Swan song. None of this was Mao’s fault really, because she was working hard, perhaps even harder than the rest of them, but she never seemed like she cared what happened to the group.

Moe was sniffing loudly and Rinko was ineffectually patting her shoulder as though that would be enough to comfort her.

“We have all worked hard until now,” Yui said. She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to look as though the past few years had been filled with flowery paths and happy memories rather than starvation, a lack of sleep, and disappointing their families. “I would like us to work hard for a bit longer. Ideally we could do this forever but the numbers don’t lie. We aren’t a beloved group so all we can do is be selfish one more time. We need to make the company give us one more comeback. We need a proper farewell instead of fizzling out to nothing. We need to do whatever we can. We should try to write our own songs or beg people to sell us songs because I have already been told that the company isn’t looking for us.”

Even Mao looked shocked at this and she stopped stretching for long enough to exchange a stunned expression with Chizuru. It served her right, really, to learn how useless even she was. Even flavour of the month Aihara Mao wasn’t enough to keep Black Swan afloat.

“I care about all of you so much, you know that, and I am sorry that I can’t do much for you. I’m sorry that I was never a good enough leader to begin with,” Yui said grimly. She didn’t want to make her group-mates cry, but there wasn’t any way of diluting what they needed to hear. They needed to be prepared for what was to come.

 

###  Shirofuku

Yukie really didn’t have much to do lately. She hadn’t realised that Shimizu was such a big part of her life. Or exercising. After showering in the morning she noticed she was losing definition around her stomach despite the fact that she never worked particularly hard at the gym anyway. It was all Shimizu’s fault.  

Not really. It was Yukie’s own fault for not having much of a social life in the first place. She only really spent time with Sarukui and Komi and Konoha and Bokuto and she really didn’t have any friends.

In an attempt to pretend that she lived a busy and exciting life, Yukie decided to drop by the company offices and see how her favourite juniors were doing. She peered through the window for a few moments watching the five girls posing in the mirror and smiling and laughing together. These kids were in the prime of their youth. They had better savour it. Before they knew it they would be old and boring and have nothing better to do than to than come into work on their days off.

She knocked and quickly entered before the surprise gave way to recognition.

“Shirofuku-san!” They clamoured to line up in front of her before giving a greeting. “The sweetest taste! Fluffy feelings! Hello, we are Candy Floss!”

“You really don’t have to do that when it is just me,” Yukie said. Now she just felt awkward.

“You’re an important senior,” Suzumeda said as she fluffed her ponytail. She looked to the other girls and they all nodded earnestly as though Yukie had done something much more impressive than walking through a door.

“We love it when you come to see us,” Ootaki agreed sagely.

“What have you guys been doing today?” Yukie asked quickly. It was better to quickly move on from the type of comments that made her pink in the face as though it was anything close to genuine. The girls were always polite but despite having been bought out of contracts with other companies at the last minute, they were friendly to a fault. Sometimes it was too much, as though cameras were continuously rolling and the five of them were intent on making their good impression stick.

“We were mostly just messing around,” Kuribayashi mumbled. Miyanoshita looked scandalised at that but she didn’t refute the admission.

“You can’t be working all the time,” Yukie shrugged. “I think the next couple of weeks will be the most rest you get for a while. Bokuto has a busy year planned for you all. How about we all go out and get some fresh air?”

‘Fresh air’ ended up being ice cream because walking down the stairs and across the road was enough fresh air for Yukie. The other girls didn’t seem to mind as they filed into the pink and white building and each ordered a scoop of ice cream.  

Yukie had Cotton Candy herself, the swirls of pink and purple her favourite. She shook her head when they were all sitting down and the other girls’ flavours were lined up. “I know I said you could have anything but for every one of you to overlook your name-sake flavour… A disgrace.”

“We’re called Candy Floss, Shirofuku-san,” Miyanoshita said with a cheeky grin. Her eyes narrowed as she leaned into Suzumeda’s side. “It might mean more to us if our name was Cotton Candy, but I much prefer Rockin’ Cotton Candy anyway.”

Despite Miyanoshita sticking up for their very individual choices, Ootaki’s face was about as pink as the spoons they all had to eat with. “I just like America’s Birthday Cake.”

“How unpatriotic,” Miyanoshita said loudly enough for everyone to hear. Ootaki’s subsequent protests were drowned out by Suzumeda.

“I thought we all got different flavours so we could all have a taste of each one.” At the realisation that the group was not of one mind, Suzumeda cradled her tub of ice cream to her chest and glared at Miyanoshita who had already had about four tastes of Rocking Cotton Candy. Miyanoshita’s scoop of Popping Matcha Melon proved to be much more unpopular than Suzumeda’s flavour – though it might have just been the other girls being more polite. 

Yukie turned to the girls sitting next to her. Yachi and Kuribayashi were the quietest in the group and had mostly kept out of the squabbling as they quietly swapped spoonfuls of Chocolate Chocolate Chip Cheesecake and Love Potion #31.

“You don’t have to pretend to be sweet here,” Yukie said. “I have already paid for the ice cream so feel free to reveal yourselves as starved demons whenever you’d like.”

“Thank you for treating us, Shirofuku-san,” Yachi said timidly. That wasn’t at all what Yukie had intended, but it did remind her of something she had been meaning to ask.

“In your family do you have an older sister, or a sister-type figure?”

Yachi shook her head. “It is just me and my mother.”

“Oh. I met someone a while back and she reminded me of you. She was sort of quiet and it seemed like talking to me was a bit of a bother.”

Suzumeda seemed to have been keeping enough of an ear out to dip out of the squabble, which had left her with a green smear of ice cream on her cheek, and into the conversation that had nothing to do with her. “Shirofuku-san, not all shy people are related, you know.”

“I know that much,” Yukie grumbled.

Out of all the members of Candy Floss, Suzumeda was the one who came closest to being an irritation because Bokuto had scouted her himself back when he set up THE Fukuro and she seemed to have slipped into a natural role of seniority. She was too relaxed about things such as speaking down to Yukie and she seemed like she would be bossy behind closed doors – though Miyanoshita came a close second in the ranking for irritation because she always had something ‘smart’ to say. Being with these girls was no different to being with the guys apart from the crushing burden of having to pretend she was any more responsible than them. 

In lieu of protesting further, Yukie shoved a mouthful of Cotton Candy ice cream into her mouth. The sweetness crystalised on her tongue as the ice cream melted away and left the sharp flavour behind. It was nice. She liked it. It was probably her favourite flavour of ice cream. Eating candy floss was a bit different because it got too sticky and required chewing when the fluff was compressed too much and formed a tooth-rotting rock.

“Hitoka-chan isn’t shy,” Kuribayashi said. Her own voice was high and timid and it seemed strange for her to be making proclamations like that.

“Isn’t she?”

Kuribayashi flushed pink and didn’t elaborate. Yukie wondered what happened to the girl who trained at Johzenji with that raucous group who went by the moniker of Glitter Boys. Yukie hadn’t spoken at length to any of the Glitter Boys but she had been sure Kuribayashi’s personality would be closer to theirs. She wasn’t nearly as annoying. She wasn’t even perpetually annoyed and sharp-tongued as Misaki Hana who she had trained with for a while. Kuribayashi was just different.

“How are you girls finding life anyway? It has been a few months since you debuted, hasn’t it?”

“Eight months,” Ootaki agreed happily. “We haven’t had any particularly hard activities just yet but when I read articles about us or look in the forums, the comments are mostly positive.”

“Do you feel any pressure?” Yukie pressed. “Your debut was quite different to what people expected from Bokuto. I think a lot of people were expecting something more similar to Night Call. Is this girlish type music what you want to be doing?”

“We have a rapper, so we can add variation,” Miyanoshita pointed out as she gestured to Kuribayashi with her pink spoon.

“is this an interview?” Suzumeda asked with a frown.

“I just want to know how you all feel about it. How you are finding things. Whether the experiences are what you want out of life.”

“It is fun,” Ootaki said. “So far we are only starting out and we haven’t had many activities together, and surely hardships will come at some point, but it is so nice to see the results of our hard work up until now. To be honest –”

“Stop talking,” Suzumeda said. Her eyes were narrowed to slits at this point and only a pink smear remained in the bottom of her tub of ice cream. “Really, why are you asking these questions? It is strange.”

“Isn’t it just because Shirofuku-san still hasn’t written the lyrics for our comeback single. The new year is almost upon us, Shirofuku-san,” Miyanoshita mused with a big enough smile for the whole table.

“Is that why?” Suzumeda asked. She sounded unsure of what she was supposed to be thinking at this point.

In truth, Yukie had forgotten all about the fact she was supposed to write the lyrics for Candy Floss’s hotly anticipated comeback. Bokuto had been very sombre as he entrusted the task to her but other things happened such as Yukie turning into a loser and not actually having any friends who weren’t also colleagues. She hadn’t been digging around for inspiration for the song and she had genuinely just wanted to get to know the girls a bit better and shorten the distance between them. Yukie wasn’t sure what the best course of action was here.

If she admitted to forgetting about the song she would look bad – flaky, irresponsible, no longer fit to keep taking those weird ‘best friend selfies’ that Bokuto insisted on taking with every person who so much as greeted him – but if she didn’t cop to it she would be as good as that one creepy teacher in a school who united the students with their collective unease and suspicion. Yukie was between a rock and a hard place.

Until the rock started to fissure and maybe a fragment flew off and gave her a concussion because the man that was on the poster in the shop window across the street had duplicated himself and was also inside the Baskin Robbins shop and walking right towards Yukie. 

When Yukie realised she wasn’t living through some odd delusion she decided she wished she was concussed. 

“Look, everyone, it’s the Miya Brothers!” She exclaimed, giddy with dread.

Miyas Atsumu and Osamu looked at one another with their mirrored faces so blankly that Yukie was struggling to remember which one was the evil one.

“If that’s what you insist on calling us,” Atsumu or Osamu commented tritely.

“What are the two of you doing here?” Yukie asked.

The synchronisation was enviable as the twins dropped their gazes to the tubs of ice cream in their hands. Their faces slipped into exasperation in unison as they said, “We came to get ice cream.”

Yukie’s eyes flickered down to the tubs of ice cream and then she realised which twin was the evil twin. Atsumu smiled amiably at the girls of Candy Floss before taking a small spoonful of his Blue Raspberry Sherbet ice cream and licking it cautiously. The non-evil twin (who truthfully was only slightly less evil than the evil twin), Osamu, did the same but this time with Bubblegum Candyland.

“Oh!” Atsumu exclaimed. He pointed between Osamu’s ice cream and the girls sitting around Yukie with glee. “It’s Candy Land!”

“It’s Candy Floss,” Osamu corrected in a bored drawl.

“How is that different to what I said?”

“It is very different,” Yukie said, because the maybe-slightly-less-evil twin was not going to say it.

The two men nodded thoughtfully. Yukie vaguely wondered why this was happening. It would be rude to just ignore the Miya brothers just to make them go away – they had debuted when they were actual babies, playing the part of some child in a period drama – but Yukie was not really in the mood to have to deal with them.  

But it served her right for thinking they would be the right distraction from the burden of trying to treat her juniors.

Suzumeda straightened her back and wiped at her mouth before counting under her breath so that the girls chorused, “The sweetest taste! Fluffy feelings! Hello, we are Candy Floss!”

The Miya brothers smiled and gave their own greetings in the charming way they were known for these days. Yukie had a DVD boxset stashed away in a cupboard somewhere at home of the television series the Miya brothers starred in when they were around ten. The episode that sticks out most in Yukie’s mind is the one when they had listened to a ghost story and wet themselves in front of all of their friends. Of course it was all pretend but the acting was good enough for Yukie to tell herself that it was a very real part of their embarrassing past.

“Anyway, it was nice to see the two of you. The girls and I have plans now, so, maybe we will see each other another time,” Yukie said sweetly.  

“But we have hardly done more than greet one another.” Yukie wasn’t sure about anything anymore. The one who had simpered so irritatingly was the one she was sure was the less-evil twin. Either the evil that had been cultivated from the womb couldn’t take a hint or it simply adored the suffering of innocent people. Yukie hadn’t done much wrong in life. At least not enough to deserve this.

“We all have a very busy day ahead of us,” Yukie lied through gritted teeth. Unfortunately, the Candy Floss girls were not kind enough to play along and they all boggled at her in varying degrees.

“We do?” Ootaki hissed to Miyanoshita – the final straw.

“Now, now, we can’t be dull all the time,” One of the Miya brothers said. Yukie wasn’t quite sure which was which now. The ice cream identification might not have been right. Perhaps Miya Atsumu’s only redeeming feature was that he didn’t eat the abominable Blue Raspberry Sherbet. 

“From time to time we have to relax and have dinner together,” The other one said. Yukie’s day was getting worse.

“Are we invited too?” Suzumeda asked loudly.

“Of course,” The Miya about to lick popping candy pieces from his pink spoon shrugged as though it didn’t matter either way.

“It would be nice to make some friends before we leave for Milan,” The Miya scraping blue residue from the inside of his ice cream cup said with a smile.

“Are you going to Italy?” Yachi squeaked. She blinked rapidly at the other girls as though to confirm it.

“I’m so jealous,” Kuribayashi giggled back to her. 

The girls were already interested in hearing about the apparent international prestige the Miya brothers had. Yukie was sentenced to pretending she wasn’t worried about her juniors being led astray while having to endure a meal at the same time as Miya Atsumu and Osamu.  

 

 

###  Semi

"Oi!" Eita called to a familiarly bad haircut.

The trainee paused in the corridor and exchanged a look with the friend who was keeping pace with him. That alone had Eita's blood boiling. The kid could obviously hear that Eita wasn't in the mood for messing about, yet he was acting cute as though he wasn't being called. He had trained at Shiratorizawa for long enough to know the score, but he apparently needed to be treated like idiot he had so often proved himself to be. 

"Shirabu."

At this the kid actually turned and looked surprised to see Eita approaching from the same direction. He stood with that ignorant expression on his face, clearly having no intention of offering a greeting to his senior. 

"Why don't you say anything?"

Shirabu really was too much at the best of times, and when faced with the senior who basically paid for his miserable existence he acted as though they were anything close to equals. Shirabu tilted his head and stared up at Eita, defiant. 

"What do you want me to say, Semi-san?" Shirabu asked because a 'hello' was far too difficult. As much as Eita wanted to pull him up on that, he wanted to cut their meeting short. 

Whenever he thought about Shirabu, or caught a glimpse of him at the company building, Eita was struck by grand thoughts of bringing the trainee down a peg and letting him know his place. The reality when they met was the stilted itch that only frustrated Eita more when they met. As desperate as he was for retribution for years of disrespect, he could never achieve more than an unsatisfactory outcome where Shirabu stared at him with those uncaring eyes and Eita felt stupid.

"What is this about a SHOOT reunion?'" Eita asked. He cut to the chase and hoped he wouldn't end up looking foolish.

"That's all I can confirm to you, Semi-san. The project group SHOOT will be reuniting in the near future."

"Why?"

"Why? The same reason any of us do anything. For money," Shirabu said as though he thought Eita might struggle to understand. 

To be fair, Eita was struggling to understand. He had done a lot of things for money, but that wasn't the reason one became an idol. The fame and the prestige, yes, but the money wasn't always there. Acting was something that Eita did for the money, but he happened to enjoy it more than being an idol. When he first wanted to train in singing and dancing it hadn't been about the money, which he had already been amassing at an alarming rate, but it was for the dream of a glitzy lifestyle that made Eita's mouth dry and his palms sweat and his insides twist with want.

"Is that why you and your pretty friend are so insistent on ruining me life? For the money?"

At this, Shirabu looked genuinely confused. Perhaps he too was looking into acting in order to cement Eita's demise. 

"Me?" The trainee who was with Shirabu was helpfully wearing his company pass with his name - Kawanishi - as he pointed to himself with the sort of impudence that usually had Eita reaching for projectiles.

"You? Do you think you are pretty?"

"Do you not think I am pretty?" Kawanishi countered.

"Of course not," Eita grumbled. He didn't have time to try to be nice, not when Shirabu was wearing his most facetious expression. He went on, hoping he wouldn't reach a point of physical contact that would have him escorted from the building, "That actor friend of yours in SHOOT. You and him are both trying to ruin my life."

"Akaashi?" Shirabu clarified.

Before Eita knew it, his hands were fisted in Shirabu's shirt and he had the trainee pinned against the wall. Perhaps he was unthreatening, or Kawanishi was content to watch Shirabu get his just desserts, because no intervention came between the wrinkling of Shirabu's countenance and the false bravado which smoothed it out again.

"Did I say I wanted to hear his name?"

"How else am I supposed to know who you are talking about? You're too petty for anyone to keep up with your grudges." 

"You would know if you had an awareness of the people around you." 

"Are we actually hearing you say those words right now?" Kawanishi asked, grinning leisurely.

"Shut up!" Eita snapped. 

Eita was very aware of the people around him. In fact he was probably too aware of some people. But if he walked around with his head in Perfect Dream Land he wouldn't have suspected from the start that an actor who was a veritable infant compared to Eita was poaching jobs from him and was being touted as the next big actor-dol. Idols could act if they wanted, Eita had no problem with that, but when this particular idol constantly auditioned for the same roles and undercut his appearance fee in order to secure characters, it became a problem. When this particular idol was bashfully smiling in interviews where he was given the moniker 'the Next Semi Eita' - when the first Semi Eita was still trying to make a living - it became a massive problem.

**Author's Note:**

> to be honest i know next to nothing about japanese idols but for the sake of my own self-indulgence this takes place in a world without perfume, akb48 et al.


End file.
